Comic Book Superhero
by calicoskies4ever
Summary: Inspired by a dream I had recently. Clark and Lex discus the pros and cons of Superheroism. Rated T just in case. Feedback is always apprecated.
1. Chapter 1

"I was invincible; I could, take on the whole wide world. Yes I was invincible just like a comic book superhero. .I used to wish that I could grow up to be Superman" S.S. Bumblebee

Lex Luthor and Clark Kent were hanging out in Lex's office reading comics. Technically Lex claimed that they were doing research in the field of superheroes, but Clark knew better. Lex took any chance he could get to read these old comics of his. IT reminded Lex of a simpler time, when the world seemed nicer. Everything in the comic books was perfect. The good guys were always good. The bad guys were always bad, and you could recognize them from a mile away. Clark knew his friend was trying hard to be good. Most of the time, he was, but there were times when trying just wasn't enough. For now, however, that wasn't important. Lex was helping Clark. He had this idea, partially inspired by the comics, and partially because of the recent appearance of the crusader people were now referring to as Batman. When Lex had first come to him with the idea, Clark had been certain tat his good fiend was out of his mind.

"You can't be serious. I mean, what you're suggesting, is that I just run around and let everybody in on my secret?"

"Technically, it wouldn't be you. You see there are two identities. There is the hero, Warrior Angel. And then there's his secret identity. That way, people will never know that it's really you."

"So what, you want me to run around in a mask or something? That is stupid," Clark said rolling his eyes.

"No, it's not, and secondly, you would need more than just something over your eyes. You would need a whole uniform."

"You mean like, a cape, and spandex, and," Clark gulped, "tights? I'm not wearing tights." Lex leaned back in the big leather chair, sighing serenely. He allowed the issue, which he had been reading to fall neatly into his lap. It was only then that he noticed his precious collection had been dropped into heaps on the floor. Some were open and upside down, others were face up, and partially opened. Some had been tossed haphazardly across the room. Clark was rolling yet another in his hands."

"Hey be careful with that, flannel boy—hey, there's an idea," he joked. "Seriously though. Even if these are just my reading copies they're still important, and you're wrecking them."

"Sorry," Clark said apologetically, trying to straighten out the comics as best he could. Then he looked back at Lex seriously. "Did you hear what I said? I'm not wearing tights." Lex sighed. This time, however, there was slightly agitated hitch to I.

"You need a uniform. All the great heroes have them. It's part of the image." Clark rolled his eyes.

"Besides. I still think this thing is stupid. Nobody would actually do this. It's a comic book, not real life. Only an idiot would run around in tights and stuff like that."

"You'd better not let Bruce Wayne hear you say that," Lex chuckled. " Clark bolted to his feet. He even did a comedic double take.

"Excuse me?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Lex could not have just said that.

"Bruce Wayne," Lex explained slowly. He stood up, lightly placed the comic on his chair and went to pour himself some scotch. "He's batman."

"I know. I mean-he and I—we both know about—each other. But—how do you know? I dint know that you knew. He defiantly doesn't know that you know. Oh man, he's gonna freak!" Lex laughed again. He took a sip from his glass, shivering slightly.

"I've known the guy since we were both lonely depressed teenagers with nobody to love us. His parents were. . And my mom—anyway that's not the point. We both know each other better than anyone," Lex trailed off. "What I mean is that we used to know—we were close then but now I just," he started stutter. After that he took another sip and put his drink down. Then he walked over to where Clark was seated and offered him a hand getting up. Clark followed Lex over to the pool table and put his hand on Luthor's shoulder.

"It's alright. I understand. Besides, what you and I have—it's special. But that doesn't matter right now, and it doesn't matter what Bruce does either. Bruce is weird. Plus people don't even like Batman."

"First off, you aren't Batman, and you're never going to be Batman. Second, and I only have two points, so quite rolling your eyes. This isn't a lecture. People want to like Batman. They just aren't sure if they can trust him. They don't like Batman/Bruce because they think he's hiding something."

"Wait a minute," Clark intrupted. It didn't matter what Lex said. This was a lecture. If Clark was going to have to put up with all of this then it was going to happen his way. "You expect me to run around in some weird ass costume, change my name, and you think that people are going to _trust_ me?" Lex sighed. _Naturally,_ Clark thought. Lex seemed to know everything. At least he acted as if he did.

"I was just getting to that. Now I believe it's you're turn to break. Come on, we can talk and do this at the same time." Clark gave his friend another serious look, but Lex wasn't paying attention. So, he grabbed Lex by the arm.

"I'm not wearing tights," he shouted. Lex handed him a cue, laughing, and nodding. "I mean it Lex." Since Clark wouldn't shoot, Lex went first, completely ignoring Clark's comment. "Lex? Lex would you please look at me?" Then he sighed and looked at his tattered old sneakers. "I'm not wearing tights and that's final," he whined to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Please excuse my crappy pool playing scene, but because this is a story people can't be standing in space and talking. I had to set up some sort of scene.

Oh and while there is some implied slash in this chapter and possibly in later ones you can look at them as either being very close friends or more. It depends on if you think its okay for a guy to hug his friend when he needs to be comforted.

"I can't do this all on my own, no I know, I'm no super man," Lazlo Blane

Maybe forty-five minutes had passed since Clark had begun his little fit about the tights thing. O far they had finished two games of pool with each of our boys tied at one win a piece. Lex leaned across the table, aimed carefully and took his shot. The ball he was going for missed by only centimeters. He swore, under his breath. Clark stood behind him, shifting his weight nervously. Lex looked at his friend.

"Your turn, Flannelboy. Seriously, though, you've been whining and complaining all afternoon."

"Come on, Lex. I mean how would you feel if I asked you to run around in a pair of tights?" Lex blushed at the question.

"Do you really want me to answer that one? Flannelboy."

"Okay, bad example. And quit calling me that, but really Lex, tights?" Clark rolled his eyes and took his own shot. He sank two of the remaining four balls with only one hit. Lex acknowledged this accomplishment with a nod and a smile.

"Okay, no tights, at least not right now, but that's not the point. We need to have a plan. Do you think that Bruce just woke up one day threw on some black spandex and a mask and called himself a crime-fighting hero?"

"Maybe," Clark spat. He took another shot, sinking the 6 ball. Lex sighed.

"That kind of thing takes weeks of planning. Maybe even a couple of months. He had to design the uniform, create and then he had to figure out which situations needed his help. He had to," Clark cut the Luthor off sinking the eight ball, smiling and patting older man on the back.

"Fine. We'll talk about it. Oh and one other thing. I'm not doing that floating thing. That still scares the crap out of me."

"First of all, you don't float, you fly. Do you have any idea how cool that is? Flying; god! Only like four comic book superheroes in all of comic book history could fly. And you can just do it."

"I don't care how cool you think it is. I don't care what you call it; flying, floating, whatever, it's scary as all Hell!" Lex was grateful that the walls of his office were soundproofed, and that he had Clark check for bugs before they began this conversation, earlier that morning.

"I'm not going to force you to do it. However, I do think that this flying thing is a problem and that you should work on it. I'll be there for you what ever you decide." Lex hugged Clark very gently, and slightly awkwardly. This was a good day for him. Clark placed a hand against Lex's shoulder.

"Okay. Maybe someday I might try it, but not now, alright?" The Kent boy looked up at him with those large doe eyes. Lex ran a hand down his back.

"I got it. No flying; no tights? Any other demands your majesty, or are we finished negating? Jesus I've had smoother corporate takeovers than this." Clark shook his head and broke the hug. Lex grabbed the rack and started setting the balls up again.

"I believe that makes two games in a row," Clark chuckled, looking at the table. "Which means that I'm up first." Lex nodded chalking up hiss own cue in anticipation. "Flannelboy strikes again." Lex coughed loudly just as Clark was about to shoot. Unfortunately it didn't stop his friend from making a clean break.

"Hmm," Lex sighed. He watched the young man carefully. "I guess I'm going to have to stop letting you win then, won't I? Anyways. Back to superheroes. It is a good idea," Clark cut him off, again.

"Except for the whole wearing tights thing."

"Except for the whole tights thing.' He admitted. Clark missed his next shot. Lex made two shots and was going for a third before Clark spoke up again.

"If you really think about it; I'd basically be doing what I do now except on a larger scale, right?"

"Right, but that isn't the point. "

"I guess I'm just not seeing your point," Clark said nervously. Sometimes when Lex got going like this he just assumed everyone was intelligent as he was. He just thought they could keep up with him, even when they couldn't. So, sometimes Clark had to remind him.

"The point of the Superhero is not what they do or even why they do it. If it were just about save it then they would just become cops. Bruce wouldn't need a makes and you could really be Flannelboy. The point, Clark, is to protect yourself and the ones you care about. If people knew whom you were and what you were capable and how to reach you they would call on you for every little thing. You would be," Clark cut him off, again. He only did this because he knew how much it bothered his friend. He also know that he was the only person Lex would ever allow to do that to him, Lex did not, would, put up with anybody else interrupting him like that.

"You're quoting from one of those comic books of yours aren't you?" Lex made what Clark had begun calling the pouty face. This was that thing where he turned his head and his eyes looked away. At the same time he puckered his lips to a point so pouty that it looked like he was waiting for a kiss.

"I'm not quoting, I'm paraphrasing. And it's not from a comic! It's from the movie," he said matter-o-factly.

"Anyway, how exactly am I supposed to go about keeping who I really am a secret from everybody? I have a hard enough time doing that in Smallville. How am I going to keep my identity secret to all of Metropolis or even the world?"


	3. Chapter 3

"I used to wish that I could grow up to be Superman," S.S. Bumblebee

Lex wasn't sure how to respond to that question. He didn't know exactly what he was going to do. Lex's idea was imply that Clark Kent would make an excellent superhero. He figured that between his comics, and possibly a little help from Bruce they would be able to figure everything out, eventually. His father had taught him better than to admit that he didn't know the answer to a question. His Luthor training did now, however, prevent him from shrugging his shoulders a little.

"You would have to leave Smallville. I know, I know, but it's the only way. Besides how can you help a guy who's a bout to get pumped full of led if you're here and he's in Metropolis?"

"Okay, so I move to Metropolis, or Gotham, or wherever, but then what? AM I supposed to wear a ski mask or something?" Lex pondered this for a moment, finishing the game, a win for himself.

"Of course not, you can't wear a ski mask. Maybe though, you might be on to something." Clark helped his friend start racking the balls up for one last game. They usually only played four or five games in a row. That alone would be a lot but between shooting pool and all the planning involved with Clark's superherdom he was exhausted.

"What are you talking about? That was a joke, Lex. It's a stupid idea; don't waist any energy thinking about it."

"What about Glasses?" Lex came up with at last. The flannel clad farm boy gave his friend a 'what the fuck are you talking about?' look.

"Glass? I don't need glass? How would glasses even change anything?" Great, Lex thought, now he's getting agitated. This is going to take forever.

"You have really, really blue eyes, and they are really, really recognizable. If we get you thick enough glasses, it'll make you look more normal. We also have to make you look less . . ." Lex trailed off, and blushed.

"Less like me and more like, you?" Clark suggested knowing that it would get to Lex. He liked Lex. He even liked this idea, but it looked like they were going to spend the whole day talking about it. Lex sighed and rubbed his temples. This whole thing was making his head hurt. Plus Clark was starting to get mean.

"While I like the idea of a bald superhero, like you know, Warrior Angel, but you can't look like me. I'm just as easily recognizable as you re."

"I guess I'm confused again," Clark admitted. This whole thing was frustrating. "What do you want me to do?"

"You have to make yourself look normal, or even less than normal. If you look like a wimp, if people don't see you as this strong guy who can do anything," Lex didn't get to keep going. Clark cut him off.

"How do I do that? I'm tall and fit, you know? I can't hide that, can I?"

"Not if you're running around in tight jeans and t-shirts. I know you aren't trying to show off, but in those clothes, you—people—can see everything."

"Wait. You don't expect me to dress like . . .you, do you? Because if that's what you're asking, I don't think I can do it."

"Actually I was hoping that we could go for something halfway between our two styles. My stuff stands out more than yours, that's why it costs as much as it does."

"Okay. So, thick glasses, and bigger less fitting clothing, what else?" Lex leaned back against the table. Despite the fact that his shirt was designed to breath in order to keep him nice and cool he was sweating. There was also sweat on his forehead. It made Clark feel bad. Lex had starting out letting his friend win at pool, but now he was getting to be really good. He wasn't necessarily better than Lex, but he never got tired, or sweaty or sore. Luthor on the other hand could only handle so much. His body was human, though slightly stronger than normal. After a day like this he often sleep many more hours than normal. He was often also sore for days afterwards; Clark began massaging Lex's shoulders.

"You need a job. Some way for you to keep track of what's going on in the world. You need a way to hear the news before anyone else. You need to know what's going to happen before it happens. As much as I hate reports, I think you should go for it."

"I've been thinking about journalism, a lot, anyway. I didn't say anything before because I know how you felt." Clark nodded and Lex had this strange look on his face. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, but if you're going to do this, I need you to make me a couple of promises." Clark put his hand on Lex's and held it.

"What ever happens between you and I, anything and everything you tell me has always been, and will always be confidential. You're my friend. Nothing matters more than anything else."

"I'm glad to hear that, but you have to know that anyone you work for is going to be pissed off by that. I'm a valuable source."

"Not to me you're not. I don't care if I don't get to move above copy boy because of it. You are my friend and I will not betray your trust."

"Wow, I don't know how to respond to that. I mean, of course I wouldn't—you can trust me—I think, but the thing is that I never expected to hear anything like that from anyone."

"I have to ask you again, okay, so don't get mad at me or anything, but are you alright?" Lex walked away and picked up the drink he had discarded earlier. He sniffed it gently, and then took a hearty sip.

"Yeah. We need to talk about the um—your uniform." Clark walked over to the couch and picked up another comic book.

"This thing looks weird. He kind of looks like a circus clown—hey he's not my idol, stop giving me that look. And Bruce's 'uniform' doesn't look all that great either." Lex sat next to him. Placing his glass on a coaster.

"So, we'll make yours better. Besides, black is not your color. Maybe we could use an image from the caves or something too."

"Actually there is this one symbol. Jor-el told me that it's pretty important and personal in our family." Lex stood up again, nodding.

"Hang on let me go look for some paper. I don't think I have too many pen colors but maybe I could . . .." Before he could finish Lex was interrupted by a swooshing sound. He looked up and just like he thought, Clark was gone. " . . .Find something." He took a quick look around the room to make sure no one could hear him. " I hate it when he does that," Luthor admitted to himself. Clark was gone and back in less than a minute. In his arms were plastic grocery bags filled with a large box of crayons (96 colors) and a sketchpad. The hero currently known as Flanelboy had a large smile on his face, and a wisp of hair over one eye. Clark tossed his head to the side.

"I figured this way we could both draw up a whole bunch of drawings and compare them. Sound like a good idea?" Lex's face turned a ghostly white.


	4. Chapter 4

"I don't wanna be president, Superman, or Clark Kent, 'cos I don't wanna walk around in their shoes," Fastball.

"You want me to draw a picture of you in a Warrior Angel, costume? Yeah, I know, you don't like that particular uniform, but that's not—what I mean is," Lex began to stammer. He heard his father's voice in the back of his mind and cringed. He also felt a shiver run down his spin. _'Spit it out Son,'_ _Lionel said angrily. _ "I can't draw."

Clark snorted. Not a loud, hearty snort, or anything like that, just a little bitty one, but I t was a snort. Then his face cracked a little, into a small smile. Then he broke out into a fit of giggles.

"I'm sorry," he said gasping for breath. The Kent boy continued to laugh for several minutes. Lex pouted.

"Well I'm glad that you find this whole thing so entertaining. Come on Clark, knock it off."

"I can't draw either," he admitted blushing. "It doesn't matter how it looks. I just want an idea of what your thinking. Those ways we can both have input."

"I'm glad that you want my help, but Clark—I really can't draw. The only bad grades I ever got—before I stopped caring—were in art class." Clark laughed again, even more this time.

"You took, _art class_? I figured at your school they would have had some kind of fancy name for it. Art class? I'm gonna have to tell Lois that one."

"It did have ea fancy name but I can't remember it. I think it was something like—Jesus that was **long** time ago." Lex blushed. Clark waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Maybe that's a good thing."

"You really don't want to do this do you?" Lex shook his head, almost violently. "What if you just described to me what you see?"

"It's alright. I'm not afraid of this—I mean I don't want to be. I can't be afraid of anything. I need to work on this."

"I don't think you need to work on this today. It's like the floating thing. WE don't need to work on everything in one day."

"It's fine Clark. IF I don't do it, I'll have that dream again tonight. The one with my father," he trailed off. Clark stood up, pacing angrily.

"Your father is a monster and a total jerk. It's not fair. All the stuff that the did to you." Lex shrugged.

"What ever he did and does is wrong, he doesn't see it that way. My father thinks that his test will make me a powerful leader."

"He wants to turn you into a carbon copy of himself."

"That's what all parents want. He just happens to be a bad person. Look, I don't like my father, but it's like you said. We can't work on everything today. We need to stick to the superhero thing right now." Clark nodded. He knew that if he argued Lex would pout and if he tried to talk about it Lex would pout, maybe even get mad. He hoped that if he agreed Lex would be all right.

"I just don't want you to feel bad or sad, or anything like that. You know?" Lex nodded too.

"Come on Flannelboy hand me some crayons and let's get to work." For somebody who claimed that they hated art as much as Lex said he did, Luthor went to work fervently and intensely. Clark started drawing his compromise as best as he could think of. Clark drew a pair of Dark pants, which were meant to represent jeans, and a tight colorful shirt made to look like Batman/Warrior Angel costume. Clark looked at the comic near his pad of paper and sighed. He teen added a waist length cape that looked like a something he would have drawn at the age of six. As he looked up he couldn't help, but notice that Lex was gripping a candy-apple red crayon so tightly that it looked as though he might snap it in two pieces. Clark got to his feet and walked over to where his best friend was sitting, and drawing.

Lex's picture wasn't nearly as bad as Clark had expected. With all of the fuss Luthor had put up over this whole art thing, Flanelboy had expected a catastrophe. Lex's drawing was simply average, the kind of thing you'd expect from a businessman with no interest in art. That was when it hit him. Lex wasn't ashamed because he wasn't very good at drawing. Lex was ashamed of not being a perfect artist. Lionel would have accepted nothing less than perfect from his son and that passed on to a child, is damaging. Now Lex couldn't enjoy anything unless he was great, maybe unless he was the best at it.

Now that Clark was getting better at pool-getting to the point where he was better even—Lex had to be coaxed into it, and even then he was often unhappy. That afternoon was a perfect example. Lex had intentionally coughed loudly while Clark was trying to shoot. The farm boy was pretty sure his friend was attempting to cheat, but he didn't call him on it.

"I thought you said you couldn't draw," Clark said looking over his friend's shoulder and placing their drawings side-by-side.

"Oh good grief," he exasperated, upon seeing Lex's drawing. "This is not good. This is not good at all."

"Shit," Lex announced taking Clark's paper in his hand and his jaw dropping.


	5. Chapter 5

Note: I didn't mention it before but I just realized this fic is a future fic. It takes place when Clark is about 25. So maybe Six years from now?

"Well the doctor said 'son it's a crying shame. But you aint Clark Kent and I aint Lois Lane, you aint Superman,'" Willie Nelson.

Clark Kent could not believe his eyes. No the drawing itself wasn't that bad. The problem was what he was wearing n the picture. Lex had taken a combination of the Batman/Warrior angle design and went from there. Lex's design would cling to the body like—like a spandex body suit. Clark could not imagine how anyone would wear that. He sure as Hell was not going to be putting that thing on. Clark stared at the drawing a resisted the urge to set the paper on fire.

"Lex there is no way in Hell I'm going to wear this thing! It's pink and those are definitely tights. I'm not wearing tights! And it's pink," he shouted wadding the paper up and tossing into the fireplace. He decided that the gesture was enough so that Lex would get the point.

"First off: it's apple blossom red, and that's only a very small part of the uniform. Two: Those aren't tights; it's a unitard. Three: your picture doesn't even have that symbol on it."

"Oh yeah," Clark said, blushing. He returned to the fireplace, retrieving the drawing. 'I still don't like it." Clark had good reason. Lex's costume was made with bright colored pastels, skin tight cloth, and what looked like a pair of boxer shorts on the outside of the pants. Lex had done both front and back drawings so that his cape looked better. Clark had to admit he liked the cape. "I like the cape though." He had put the Kyrptonian symbol over the chest and on the cape. The costume showed almost all of Clark's/the superhero's body parts as if it was only painted on. Lex looked at Clark's drawing for a moment.

"Well this is no good either. Clark, I told you jeans and stuff are totally out. This thing looks exactly like you!" Lex pressed his fingers against his temples. Clark went from halfway across the room to right next to his friend in a fraction of a second.

"You have a headache? Do you want me to do something? Should I call someone? Is there anything I can get you?"

"I need you to be quiet and promise that you'll quit whining over this whole tights thing. I need something else too." Clark was immediately gone and back with water and two aspirin tablets. He handed them to Lex who chewed both pills and dry swallowed them. Clark grimaced.

"Anything. I'll get you anything. Just name it and I'm there. We're there, if we have to both be there." Lex nodded. His physically headache was gone, and Lex's mind was once again clear. Lex took the two drawings in his hands. Clark's on the left, his on the right. He held them together, and stared hard, concentrating, with what was probably too much brainpower. He held the two drawings one on top of the other, moved them back to the original positions, and let them drop to the floor. Then he sighed. "Lex, what is it? What's wrong?"

"I don't think we're going to be able to come to a compromise between the two of us. We need an impartial third party. Lex stood up and he started to look around the room for his coat.

"What are you doing? Lex? Talk to me. What do you mean impartial third party? You think we can tell somebody about this? Isn't that counter-productive?" Lex shook his head. Suddenly Clark realized what his friend was getting at.

It took Lex five minutes to find his jacket, Clark got his own in less than twenty seconds, swooshing through the mansion. After that Lex grabbed the keys to the Ferrari and drove himself and Clark to the Kent Family Farm. Clark had scanned the farm from about a mile away. His dad was out in the fields; Martha was in the kitchen. He mentioned both facts to Lex. Luthor pulled his car up to its usual parking spot. When the boys entered the kitchen, they found Mrs. Kent, working on a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies, and going over the tax returns for the New Year.

"Hi guys," she said without looking up. The car had been enough to tell her who had come to the farm. Lex's cars sounded very different from anyone else's in Smallville. She finished the figures on the page she was working on. "Clark your dad could use some help with the tractor. It's been acting up again. Do you think you could give him a hand?" Clark nodded. He zipped out.

"Hi, Mrs. Kent. 'Um look. There's uh—something—that Clark and I wanted to talk to you about. We could use some help with this—um—project." Martha put a cookie sheet in the over and whipped her hands on the apron she was wearing. Then she came over and patted Lex on the back.

"It's alright, Lex. You know you're always welcome here." Lex looked up at her gratefully. "Now, what seems to be the problem? The door shut behind Clark who had zipped back in just in time to hear the question. He grabbed one of the cookies that were cooling on the rack beside the oven and popped it in his mouth.

"Lex wants me to wear tights," he announced through a mouthful of cookies. Martha blinked a few times, shook her head and whipped crumbs off Clark's mouth. "Aw, Mom!"

"I'm sorry, but I thought that you said that Lex wants you to wear tights?" Martha still wasn't sure if this was a joke or if she ought to be concerned. Before she could ask, Lex decided to speak up before his whole idea was quashed.

"That was not what I said at all. Clark and I decided that he could help a lot more people. I mean he is capable of so much it seems a shame not to do this." Martha nodded. She was still attempting to multitask.

"I'm just concerned. Jonathan and I worked so hard for all those years keeping Clark's secret, and now . . ." she trailed off realizing that naturally Lex Luthor would have thought of that one.

"This is where the whole 'tights' thing came up. I know it's going to sound strange, but you've got to bear with me for a few minutes, okay?" Jonathan Kent walked into the door letting it slam behind him. He dusted his hands off.

"What is it that we're supposed to be listening to now?" he asked, grabbing a handful of cookies for himself. This time Martha got up form the table and took them from his hands, replacing them on the tray.

"Cut that out, both of you. You're going to spoil your appetite. I'm sorry about the interruption, Lex. Go on you can finish telling us your idea now."

"Now wait just a minute, here," Jonathan said, starting to get more than just a little bit angry. "It's bad enough that Clark decided to tell you his secret, but now you want to take Clark's abilities and use them for your own gain?"

"Jonathan," Mrs. Kent warned. She gave her husband a stern look. Despite the fact that Lex had changed significantly over the past few years, Jonathan still had difficulty trusting him.

"That's alright, I probably deserve that. Actually I want Luthorcorp to have as little to do with this whole thing as possible. I had this idea, and you probably wont like it, but—what I was thinking, was basically, that," Lex trailed off. Jonathan was staring at him, still trying to decide if he should listen to this or not.

"Dad, give Lex a break, okay? He thinks that I might be able to help more people if I lived in Metropolis, and if people didn't know it was me. He has some really good ideas but he has to be able to talk without being scared of you."

"Fine." Jonathan Kent sat down at the kitchen table and gave the others a sign to join him. "Why don't you tell us what you've been thinking, Lex.

"Alright," he said, sighing. "My idea is . . ."


End file.
